


Canidae

by misfiredamage



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Vax/Gilmore, Edwardian Aesthetic, Gen, Mystery, Past Percy/Ripley, except im really really bad at writing mystery oops, implied Percy/Tiberius, more character tags will be added when more characters are introduced, there's implied cannibalism if you reeeeaaaally squint, who's the werewolf you don't know oooohhhh~~~
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-07 14:09:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10362183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misfiredamage/pseuds/misfiredamage
Summary: A member of the Slayers' Take, a respected organization in the city of Vasselheim known for its members' skill at slaying monsters, has taken up a contract for the death of a Werewolf and the harvest of the beast's parts. He's followed reports of such a creature to a city on the continent of Tal'dorei, though, he's hit a small snag: The true identity of the Werewolf is unknown.(Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this! I thrive on attention and if I feel this isn't liked I may drop it.)





	1. Kingdom: Animalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting the stage

The trip from Vasselheim to Whitestone takes about two weeks, and it's certainly miserable when Kashaw gets there. The people are miserable, the weather is miserable, even the buildings are miserable. Everyone eyes him with apprehension, no doubt due to the spear strapped to his back, but he flashes his brand from the Take and everyone who sees goes from wary to adoring. He finds his way to an inn, pays for room and board for a couple weeks, and goes to unpack.

The inn is nice enough on the inside, with warm lighting and a telephone available should someone need it. Apparently, the Lord of this city-state-country-whatever (it's still not clear to Kashaw what Whitestone _is_ ) was a key player in many of the inventions that lead to things such _as_ the telephone, so Whitestone certainly doesn't lack for technology. Which is a nice change from Vasselheim, to say the least.

Kashaw is in Whitestone for about three days before everything about this job changes.

He's sitting in a pub, listening to a man's drunken recounting of his apparent encounter with the beast, when the room falls silent.

A boy of no more than nineteen years has entered, immediately out of place in his fine suit. He glances around nervously before his eyes lock on to Kashaw and he smiles, relieved. Kashaw takes another drink from his pint and scowls.

“Pardon the interruption, Mister Vesh," the boy begins with a bow when he gets close enough, but Kashaw cuts him off.

“No," he snaps, “I'm not 'Mister Vesh'. Just call me Kashaw. Got it?"

“A-as you say, Mister Kashaw," the boy stammers. Good enough.

“So what do you want?" Kashaw sighs, and the boy eyes his spear nervously.

“Th-the Lord and Lady de Rolo extend their sincere apologies for not welcoming you earlier," he says, “and would be honoured if one such as yourself, from such an esteemed organization as the Slayers' Take, were to join them for supper this evening. They also wish me to inform you that a room has been prepared in the castle for your use while you conduct your business in Whitestone."

Kashaw eyes him as he takes a long drink from his pint before slamming the mug back down on the table. “Yeah, alright. What time?"

“Six o'clock, Mister Kashaw. Sharp."

Kashaw nods and shoos the boy away, and he seems delighted to leave.

Kashaw sighs. He'd never informed the Lord and Lady of his arrival.

More shit to investigate, then.

 

* * *

  
  
Here is what Kashaw learns about the Lord and Lady of Whitestone in preparation for the supper he's been invited to:

They are brother and sister, and rule together by council.

The brother is the elder of the two, originally the third of seven. The sister was the seventh of seven.

They are the sole survivors of an attempted coup, in which all their family - save them - was killed.

Their names are Percival and Cassandra.

Percival keeps strange company; he is close friends with the leader of the Zephyra tribe of the Ashari Druids, the cousin of the chief of a Goliath warband, the bastard children of an Elven bureaucrat, a Gnomish religious leader, and perhaps _more_ than friends with a prominent Draconian ambassador.

He _used_ to be acquainted with a popular Gnomish musician, but they had a falling-out that lead to said musician and any of his kin being banished from Whitestone, not to set foot in the city again on pain of death.

Percival is also very reclusive, only leaving the castle _when_ he must for as _long_ as he must.

 _Percival_... Apparently has a _temper_. Some servants have apparently described his anger as 'bestial', some as 'demonic'.

It's... Admittedly hard to see why when Kashaw meets him. He seems amiable enough, bowing when he introduces himself and shaking Kashaw's hand when it's offered. He's pale, with delicate bone structure, his slender figure covered by a well-tailored navy suit with subtle gold thread on the lapels and cuffs, silver cufflinks molded to look like an element of his family's crest, and round gold-rimmed bifocals are perched on his slightly hooked nose in front of pale blue eyes. It's hard to imagine him having a temper hot enough to scare a bug, let alone any of the servants. He's very... _Pretty_ , is the only word Kashaw can think of.

His sister is much the same in appearance, though she projects a much more mature character than him. Her hair, brown where his is white (though streaked through with silver in some places), is pulled up in an elegant updo to make it look as though her hair is bobbed - the popular style for ladies of Note - and she wears a day dress in a muted lavender with darker purple trim on the collar, sleeves, and hem. Her jewelry is understated and elegant, a hair ornament in the shape of the same element of the de Rolo's crest as her brother's cufflinks pinned just above her ear on the left of her head.

They welcome him, have his luggage brought to the room they've made available to him for the length of his visit, and then just... Leave him to his own devices until supper.

So, naturally, he naps (look, it's been an arguably long day, he's not used to meeting nobility, and it's a _really_ nice bed).

He's woken up around five o'clock by a knock on the door followed by the same boy who came to fetch him at the pub announcing that 'Lord Percival thought he'd like some time to make himself presentable before supper'.

He  _thinks_ he may have been insulted somehow.

 

* * *

  
  
“I apologize for our delayed hospitality," Percival says over the main course of supper (it's a white meat that Kashaw can't quite place, apparently some traditional Whitestone dish). “You've caught us at a rather inopportune time, I'm afraid. Though, if you'll forgive my curiosity, why _have_ you come to Whitestone?"

“I'm after a contract," Kashaw says, to which Cassandra responds with a small gasp.

“How _exciting_! I've always admired the men and women of your organization," she exclaims, grinning at him across the table. “What are you hunting? A giant Elk? A Behir?"

“A Werewolf, actually. Someone wants a pelt for some reason or another and I'd heard reports of one in this area," Kashaw says before taking a bite of food.

The siblings share a look, then go back to their own meals.

“I'm afraid you may be sorely disappointed in your endeavours, then, Mister Kashaw," Percival says as he cuts his meat. “Our citizens are somewhat prone to... Flights of fancy, shall we say?"

“In any case," Cassandra adds, “if there _were_ a Werewolf, the beast would pose no danger to the city. We're blessed and protected by Pelor himself."

“It's not about whether or not it poses a _threat_ ," Kashaw points out, “it's about fulfilling the _contract_."

Percival raises a brow at his statement and takes a sip of wine. “Well, I can tell you're going to be _dogged_ in your pursuit of this," he says dryly, smirking as he sets his glass down. “I'll inform you, then - we're having company over, to celebrate the equinox in two weeks' time. They should be arriving over the next few days, and I ask that you not bother them in your... Investigation."

“Oh, don't worry about that," Kashaw says after swallowing a mouthful of food. “No offence meant, but high society isn't... Really my thing."

“Then we won't have any trouble at all," Percival says with a tilt of his head and a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first chapter of this! My goal is to have it finished in nine, one for each scientific classification of wolves (Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Subfamily, Tribe, Genus, and finally Species), but we'll see where things take us in that regard. Depending on how many corners I cut or how much I pad out the plot, it may end up being more or less. I do have an end in mind, though, don't you worry, I'm just. Working out the details.  
> In any case, please, if you liked this, leave a kudos and/or a comment! I love attention and knowing that my work is appreciated!


	2. Phylum: Chordata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing the players

Kashaw's attitude of 'not involving himself with the guests' kind of goes out the window when the first one arrives.

She doesn't arrive by car, instead stepping out of a tree in the castle courtyard, which nearly scares the life out of him. Percival is waiting for her in the courtyard, and he grins when he sees her.

She wears a day dress in a pale bluish-grey silk with white accents, the hem seeming to blow in a wind that isn't there, and her wide-brimmed hat is ornamented with flowers, small gems, and antlers. Her hair is bobbed - to waste no time pinning it up, no doubt - and brilliantly orange, and slightly pointed ears poke through on either side, leaving no doubt that she's Half-Elven. She carries her luggage herself with ease, but doesn't decline when Percival offers to have a servant take it to her room.

Kashaw thinks he may be in love.

“Oh, and, this is Mister Kashaw Vesh," Percival says, startling Kashaw out of his reverie. “He's with the Slayers' Take, and is staying with us while he pursues a bounty."

“Just Kashaw is fine," Kashaw says as he stands up and offers his hand for the woman to shake. She does, grinning brightly all the while.

“It's nice to meet you, Kashaw," she says. “I'm Keyleth, Headmistress of the Zephyra tribe of the Ashari people. May I ask what your bounty is?"

“Oh, uh," Kashaw stammers, sure he's blushing. “A Werewolf. Someone wants a pelt and some teeth."

Keyleth's face falls _ever_ so slightly and her gaze flicks to the side for a moment. “Well, I wish you luck, then," she says, before Percival clears his throat and reminds her she should unpack. Keyleth waves at Kashaw as she leaves, which he somewhat awkwardly returns.

“Remember our agreement, Mister Kashaw," Percival says before he follows her. “Don't bother my guests."

 _Screw you_ , Kashaw thinks, as he says out loud, “I know. Still no intention of doing that."

 

* * *

 

The next guest arrives on the arm of a wealthy Marquesian businessman.

He's another Half-Elf, his hair falling in a black sheet down his back. He wears a simple, smart suit of black wool, an ulster coat with what seems to be raven feathers decorating the cape over top, and his tie is decorated with a pin with a tiny silver bird skull on it.

His husband, a Human, wears a suit of vibrant purple silk, the fabric standing out beautifully against his rich brown skin. Gold thread glimmers on the seams, in the cord holding his dark wavy hair back in a low ponytail, and in the weave of the braid in his goatee.

Percival, Cassandra, and Keyleth receive them at the front door of the castle, and Kashaw is introduced when their paths cross on the way inside.

“Ah, Mister Kashaw," Percival says, nodding to him. “This is Vax'ildan, and his husband Shaun Gilmore," he adds with a gesture to the men. Vax'ildan, the Half-Elf, gives a short bow with a 'Vax is fine', while Shaun sweeps into a deep Marquet-style bow with a murmured 'be pleased'.

Kashaw returns the smaller bow, and offers his hand to shake.

The scars on his arm, hidden by his sleeves, _burn_ when he shakes Vax'ildan's hand, who in turn eyes him suspiciously.

“Mister Kashaw is a member of the _Slayers' Take_ ," Cassandra says excitedly, then adds, “he's in Whitestone in pursuit of a Werewolf."

Vax'ildan and Shaun make noises of interest, but can't seem to get away from Kashaw fast enough.

 

* * *

 

Kashaw is in the forest, inspecting some tracks the locals have claimed were left by the beast he's pursuing, when the next guest arrives and he nearly dies of fright. When one is alone in the woods without one's weapon, the sound of a bear makes one's heart seize in one's chest, after all.

He's frozen, staring down the bear, when he hears a soft, feminine throat-clearing, and looks up to see a woman in a deep blue riding habit, dark hair swept up into a twist at the back of her head and silk top hat with blue feathers tucked in the band perched atop it, sitting side-saddle on the creature.

“I think I've gotten myself turned around," she says once she has his attention, “could you direct me to Whitestone, darling?"

“Yes," Kashaw says once he finds his voice again. “I could walk you there, if you like."

“Oh, _would_ you?" She gasps. “I'm late enough already, I think my brother may have arrived before me, which honestly is _very_ embarrassing."

Kashaw squints at her. “Are you here for the equinox, too?"

“I _am_!" She exclaims. “I'm going to lead the ceremonial hunt."

He notices the bow and quiver strapped to her back, then, and the crest of Emon on the breast of her jacket, and her recognizes her; Vex'ahlia, a Half-Elven Ranger who took over Assum Emring's position on the council of Emon when he stepped down.

“Pleasure to meet you," Kashaw says. “Vex'ahlia, right?"

“Oh, it's good to know I'm recognizable," she laughs. “And your name?"

“Just Kashaw is fine," he says, and she bows from her seat atop the bear.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Kashaw," she says as she straightens up. “Now, you were going to guide me to town?"

 

* * *

 

“Oh, damn!" Percival gasps at lunch a day after Vex'ahlia arrives. “He'll be here any second, I need to go, please, forgive me for this."

He hurries out of the room and is gone for about ten minutes before laughter heralds his return and another's arrival.

Now, Kashaw knew deep down that he would meet the Draconian ambassador who Percival is close to eventually. He just... Wasn't entirely prepared to.

Percival, holding the arm of the Dragonborn, easily surpasses six feet in height, but barely clears the Dragonborn's shoulder, and the fangs visible when the Dragonborn opens his... _Maw_ , there's really no other word for it, in a laugh at whatever Percival has said are _profoundly_ off-putting.

“Ah, Tiberius, this is Mister Kashaw Vesh," Percival says when the pair enters the dining hall and he catches sight of Kashaw. “He's a member of the Slayers' Take, staying here on business."

“Just Kashaw is fine," Kash sighs, having said this many times over the past several days.

“Lovely to meet you, Kashaw," the Dragonborn says with a (terrifying) grin. “I'm Tiberius Stormwind, from Draconia."

“I'd guessed," Kashaw deadpans, and Tiberius snorts in amusement, small flames blowing out of his nostrils when he does. It's... Disconcerting, to say the least. Though, the effect is softened somewhat by the tiny spectacles perched on his snout and the rather fashionable teal suit with gold embroidery covering his red scales.

“He's assured me he won't be bothering us with the pursuit of his bounty," Percival murmurs, placing his free hand gently on the Dragonborn's arm.

“Ah, and what bounty would that be?" Tiberius asks.

“Werewolf," is all Kashaw says, and he misses the rather panicked looked Tiberius gives Percival.

 

* * *

  
The final pair of guests arrive by car, and cars, Kashaw thinks, should not be able to hold people that large.

The Goliath who steps out of the car is bald, with tribal markings tattooed on his face and a truly impressive beard on his chin. He wears a suit of brown-grey wool, and Kashaw is amused by the image of an entire flock of sheep being sheared to provide the material for a single suit.

At first, Kashaw thinks the woman who follows him is merely tiny by comparison, until he realizes she's Gnomish. Her silver-blonde hair is pulled up into a simple bun, and she wears a relatively plain day dress in pale yellow muslin with gold buttons. A necklace with a faintly glowing pendant rests around her neck, and once again, the scars on Kashaw's arm ache.

“For someone who's agreed to avoid my guests, I do seem to be introducing you quite a bit," Percival remarks when Kashaw crosses paths with them. “Though I'll never let it be said that I'm rude," he sighs. “Mister Kashaw, allow me to introduce you to Sister Pike Trickfoot, Cleric of Sarenrae, and Mister Grog Strongjaw, formerly of the Herd of Storms."

The Gnome, Pike, curtseys prettily when she's introduced, and the Goliath, Grog, attempts to do the same. In his suit. Somehow, it works, and Kashaw responds with a small bow to both of them.

“What brings you to Whitestone, Mister Kashaw?" Pike asks.

“Business," Kashaw answers. “I'm with the Slayers' Take. I took a contract against a Werewolf and followed some leads to this city."

“Oh," Pike says, voice full of false levity, “that's... Lovely."

“Is it?" Grog asks, his face screwing up in confusion. “I thought-"

“Let's go unpack our things, Grog," Pike says unnecessarily loud, and she leads Grog off towards the stairs that lead to the guest quarters.

Well. Now Kashaw is just starting to suspect something is _up_ with these people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's the Werewolf?  
> You don't know.


	3. Class: Mammalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Events begin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized, talking to a friend about this, that I was writing it almost like scenes from a show, so I've kind of leaned into that a bit in this chapter. Just an experiment, let me know if you liked it! Additionally, a trigger warning for mentions of gaslighting in this chapter.

Having decided that with the strange way they're all acting, the Werewolf is either Percival, his sister, or one of their guests, Kashaw starts poking around the castle. He begins by asking the servants questions, which is admittedly harder than it sounds, since they're trained to go about their work without being seen.

He finally finds the boy who'd fetched him at the pub, a footman named Kynan, carrying a stack of books from the library to Percival's study (Percival and Tiberius have sequestered themselves in there, apparently trying to find a way to marry Magic and technology other than enchantments).

“Those look heavy, let me help you," he says by way of greeting, taking half the stack.

“M-mister Kashaw, please, you're a guest," the boy stammers in protest, but Kashaw ignores him. “Surely you've got better things to do than help me? What about your contract?"

“I'm working on it," Kashaw grunts as he adjusts his grip on the books. “I actually have some questions I'd like to ask you, and I'd prefer to do it without Percival breathing over my shoulder."

“Oh," Kynan says. “Well, ask away, I suppose? Could we walk while you do that, though? I don't want to anger Lord Percival."

“That's actually one of the things I wanted to ask about," Kashaw says as they begin walking. “All the servants seem to walk on eggshells around him, but he looks like a stiff breeze could blow him over, why are you so scared of him?"

“Size isn't an indication of strength, Mister Kashaw," Kynan murmurs, casting his gaze to the ground. “I've heard... Stories. Apparently, Lord Percival was sparring one day, and threw the man he was practicing with halfway across the training yard. Broke his arm, too."

“Huh," is all Kashaw can say. He makes a mental note that maybe he should avoid pissing off Percival, then says, “What about his sister, Cassandra?"

“Oh, you'll want to talk to her lady's maid," the boy says. “I don't spend much time around her, or any of the ladies, really. Lord Percival says it's improper."

“Does he?" Kashaw mutters flatly. They've nearly reached the study, so he takes the opportunity to ask one last question. “Who would I speak to if I wanted _more_ information on Percival?"

“You'd want to look for his valet, in that case," Kynan says brightly, relief at not being asked any more questions obvious in his voice. “But if you don't mind _my_ asking, Mister Kashaw... Why are you poking into Lord Percival and Lady Cassandra's business?"

Kashaw stops and stares at him. “Because I have reasonable suspicion that someone in their little inner circle is the Werewolf I'm after," he says, and Kynan pales.

“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," the boy mutters as he takes the books back from Kashaw and hurries into the study.

 

* * *

 

Kashaw runs into Keyleth in the garden a few hours later. She's sitting on the ground, the sky-blue skirts of her dress spread out around her, and her eyes are closed as her hair and dress blow in a wind that touches nothing else in the area. She's beautiful, and he just. Stops, unable to tear his gaze away.

She looks up eventually and smiles when she sees him. “Hi, Kashaw."

“I... Yes," he says. _Fantastic_. Keyleth giggles, though, and it makes his chest feel a bit tight. “Could I..." This is a bad idea. “Could I talk to you?" This is _such_ a bad idea.

“Of course," she says, standing up and brushing herself off. This is the _best_ idea. He offers her his arm and she takes it, and he feels his face heat up with a blush.

“So," he says as they start to walk (his aim a bench by the wall of the courtyard), “why are you here?"

It's what he meant, but it came out a lot ruder than he intended it to, and he worries that he's offended her. She smiles at him, though, and he returns the expression.

“There's rites involved in the equinox celebration," she explains, “Percy - sorry, Percival - asked if I'd preside over them this year."

They sit on the bench together, Kashaw with a sinking feeling in his stomach. “You and him... You seem close. Are you...?"

“Hm? Oh!" Keyleth gasps, then laughs softly. “No, no. I see him as a sort of brother, actually? He's not really... There's only one woman he's ever been interested in."

Well, that's a relief. But now Kashaw is curious. “Who would that be?"

“I... Don't know her _name_ ," Keyleth says slowly, “but I know she was an inventor, like him."

_Percival speaks animatedly with a woman in a simple chocolate-brown day dress, her black hair pulled back in a plain, tight bun._

“He was... Happy with her, I suppose, but also sad, in a way? It's hard to explain."

_She stands above him on a staircase and holds his chin, tilting his head up and smiling down at him. He looks at her like she hangs the stars each night, but the look she gives him is cold._

“She didn't love him, though. She saw him as a... A means to an end. She was using him for his research."

_Percival kisses her hesitantly, and she barely makes a show of returning the affection. Still, he looks at her like a Goddess when he pulls away._

“I don't know the details, but one day he caught her stealing notes and designs from his workshop. She'd been doing this for months, apparently, and making him think he was losing his mind if he noticed anything missing."

_Percival stands in the doorway to his workshop, hand still on the doorknob and a look of utter betrayal on his face. The woman is in the process of putting papers into a briefcase, and she looks furious that she's been caught._

“When he confronted her about it... She turned one of his own inventions against him, and nearly killed him."

_A terrifying, cracking bang rings out through the halls of the castle, then two more. Percival falls to the ground, clutching his shoulder, screaming in pain, and the woman steps over him and out the door._

“He would have died there if that invention didn't make so much noise," Keyleth murmurs. “His sister found him bleeding out on the floor, and that woman... Well, nobody's seen her since. Percy wasn't the same after that, but he seems happier now that he's spending more time with Tiberius."

Kashaw is silent, taking this information in. There's... _Something_ about it that doesn't add up, but he can't put his finger on it.

“I'm sorry," Keyleth says when he hasn't spoken for a few moments. “I don't mean to gossip, I'm sorry if I said too much, it's just... Well, you asked, so..."

“No, no, no, it's fine,' Kashaw reassures her, “I just got lost in thought. That's a terrible thing that happened to him." He bites back a snap of _but at least he didn't marry her_.

“And... For what it's worth," he adds, hesitantly taking her hand and looking her in the eyes, “I could listen to you talk for hours."

Keyleth blushes and smiles at him, and while Kashaw's heart soars, he can't ignore the furious ache in his arm.

 

* * *

 

Supper that evening is absent both their lordly host and a certain ambassador.

“They've practically locked themselves in my brother's study," Cassandra sighs over the first course, “doing who knows what with magic and Percival's tinkering."

“I think it's nice that your brother is experimenting again," Vax'ildan says, earning himself a chuckle from most everyone at the table. “I mean, a study wouldn't be my first choice of setting," he adds, “but to each their own."

Cassandra glares at him from her seat. “Contrary to popular belief, Mister Vax'ildan, I am _not_ entirely uninformed on certain matters," she snaps, “and would prefer not to hear such insinuations about my _brother_."

Vax'ildan flushes and looks thoroughly ashamed, raising his glass to sheepishly take a sip of wine. Shaun, sitting next to him in a gold silk dinner suit that looks almost like scales when the light catches it right, pats his arm sympathetically while trying to stifle his laughter.

“I've been meaning to ask, what sorts of things does your brother invent?" Kashaw asks.

Cassandra covers her mouth with a gloved hand and holds up a finger while she finishes her mouthful of food. “Just little devices, mostly, and improvements on current technology," she says after she swallows. “He used to invent weapons, too, but there was an... Incident. Which I'd rather not discuss at supper. Or at all, now that I think about it."

Kashaw nods understandingly, and Keyleth suddenly becomes very interested in her silverware.

 

* * *

 

Walking back to his room after supper, Kashaw takes a... _Small_ detour.

Okay, a _big_ detour. Down to the castle basements, where he knows Percival's old workshop is, because something about Keyleth's story still nags at him and he can't put his _fucking_ finger on it and maybe if he sees the place it'll click.

He's not the only one there, though.

“Did you get turned around, Mister Kashaw?" Vax'ildan says from his position leaning against the wall. “Lost in thought and went down instead of up?"

“I could ask you the same thing," Kashaw says, eyeing the Half-Elf warily and wishing he'd stopped to get his spear. This just _screams_ 'attack', and he'd have a much better chance of surviving if he had a weapon.

“True." Vax'ildan pushes off the wall and stands up straight. “But then again, I'm friends with Freddie - Percival, sorry - and you're not, so I don't know why _you're_ wandering his castle." He studies Kashaw for a moment, then takes a step towards him.

“Who do you serve?"

The question catches him off guard and there's faint laughter in the back of his mind.

“I work for the Take," he answers, and Vax'ildan shakes his head.

“Not what I meant," he says with a frown, “and I'd appreciate a straight answer. I can feel your holy symbol, Cleric. It's _part_ of you. What kind of God has their followers make their symbol part of their body? Who. Do. You. _Serve_?"

Kashaw scowls right back at him and opens his mouth to answer before pain shoots up his arm and he has to grit his teeth to keep from showing a reaction. “The kind who'd kill her own husband to keep a servant of the Raven Queen from knowing about her," he snaps instead. “Now if you'll excuse me," he adds, bowing, “I'm going to retire for the evening."

He can feel the Half-Elf's eyes on him as he leaves.


End file.
